


Just Play Monopoly

by writingandchocolatemilk



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, RomaBul
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-16
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-07 20:31:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3182159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Palm reading?”</p>
<p>Georgi screamed, hurling himself sideways and trying to look behind him at the same time.</p>
<p>“When did you even—“ Georgi swallowed. “How long—well, how long were you… How…”</p>
<p>Dmitry stood over him, a leering grin on his face. Dmitry, who was rumored to have spray painted the football field with Satanic messages. Dmitry, who had supposedly summoned the Devil. Dmitry, whose teeth were pointed.</p>
<p>“Palm reading,” Dmitry repeated, holding out his hand. “Or good luck charms, I can do those, too.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> From some anonymous prompts. 
> 
> Georgi is Bulgaria and Dmitry is Romania. Mogens is Netherlands.
> 
> [Click me first](http://studyinromania.wordpress.com/category/customs-and-traditions/).

Oh, God, what was Georgi doing here? Well, he knew he was ‘putting himself out there,’ and ‘trying to make friends,’ but he was pretty sure that Mogens had hired at least one stripper. And there was drugs—legitimate, jail time drugs—and Georgi’s stomach turned when he drank _champagne_.

Currently, he was sheltering in the kitchen, watching the French exchange student compete against the British kid. Compete being a general term, because they were seeing who could down more Jell-O shots. They were screaming at one another, mouths smeared in colorful liquid.

Gerogi swirled his beer can, wondering when he should actually open it. He could ask for a Jell-O shot. He should, probably, try to have _some_ fun. But he felt too out of place here. He couldn’t dance to the deafening music, he couldn’t drink, and most of his friends were playing Monopoly at one of their houses.

Finally, the strong fog of weed smoke was too much. Georgi escaped out the door into the back yard, breathing in a lungful of night air. It was too chilly, so there were only a few stragglers passed out in the bushes.

“Oh, I don’t know mother, why should I go to the party?” Georgi grumbled, collapsing on one of the lawn chairs. “A fun time? No, I won’t have that. Why can’t I just stay at home, do some homework? Friends? I have plenty—and _they_ don’t like to get so drunk they forget their name.”

Only the crickets responded. Georgi blew air through his lips, running a hand over his face.

“Plenty.”

“Palm reading?”

Georgi screamed, hurling himself sideways and trying to look behind him at the same time.

“When did you even—“ Georgi swallowed. “How long—well, how long were you… How…”

Dmitry stood over him, a leering grin on his face. Dmitry, who was rumored to have spray painted the football field with Satanic messages. Dmitry, who had supposedly summoned the Devil. Dmitry, whose teeth were pointed.

“Palm reading,” Dmitry repeated, holding out his hand. “Or good luck charms, I can do those, too.”

Georgi was lying on the ground, feet tangled in the chair. “I, um, no, I was, uh I was leaving. I was, I…” He kicked the chair away, smiling awkwardly.

He shook his head. Well, he _meant_ to shake his head. Instead, he nodded and watched, horrified, as Dmitry took a seat next to him on the grass. Was Dmitry wearing eyeliner? It didn’t matter, because now he was holding Georgi’s hand.

“My Grandpa taught me how to do this stuff,” Dmitry said, leaning over Georgi’s palm. “Everyone back in Romania used to call him a witch—at least, that’s what he said. He used to collect dead crows and hang them from the rafters.”

“Oh, well, uh, that’s a—that’s a nice story.” Georgi should have stayed inside and asked for a Jell-O shot. “I’m sure your grandfather was a very nice man.”    

This seemed to be taking a little too long. Silence fell. Dmitry kept running his thumb over Georgi’s palm, and he seemed really, really focused. He was probably drunk, and having trouble seeing the creases.

“You’re very loyal when you’ve made a friend,” Dmitry finally spoke. “And you’re impulsive. Is that why you came here tonight? Or was it purely your mother?” A grin.

Georgi attempted to steal his hand away, but Dmitry held it firm.

“Uh, well, it’s nothing like that. I was—I was heading toward my friend’s house and, well, I knew Mogens was having this,” Georgi waved his hand toward the house. “So…”

Dmitry tilted his head, and the light caught on that sharp tooth of his. “I don’t think you were having much fun, were you? Mogens can throw a good party, but only if you like hooking up in bathrooms. Not that I judge…”

“Why are you here?”

Dmitry’s smile fell slightly. “Well, I came here with Arthur and Lukas, if you know them. But they’ve—it doesn’t matter. Want to see something cool?”

Georgi wasn’t sure, but the silence had his mouth speaking before his brain could comprehend the question.

“Sure.”

Dmitry reached into his pocket; Georgi almost ducked. But instead of a gun, all he pulled out was a small red and white ribbon. Dmitry placed it in Georgi’s hand, closing his fingers around it. Georgi looked at the knot, twirling the string. It was pretty, red and white, tied in a neat bow around a piece of paper.

“Oh, uh…”

“It’s for good luck, among other things. Anyways, I have to find my friends, see you!” Dmitry grinned and jumped up, waltzing away.

Georgi was alone once again, one bow richer. With nothing else to do, Georgi unwrapped the piece of paper. And then he laughed. Apparently, big, bad Dmitry wanted Georgi to ‘call him.’ Georgi flexed his fingers, smiling faintly down at his hand.


	2. Two

Georgi stared hard at his Calculus work, ignoring the stare digging into his side. He had forgotten that Dmitry was a fucking arrogant ass who shared his math class with him. Had he remembered this last Saturday, his life would be ten times easier.

What the hell was Georgi looking at? They didn’t take notes on this.

“Pst, do you know the answer to seven?” Came the bright voice.

Georgi looked at Dmitry from the corner of his eye. In the gloom of the party, the other boy had seemed… Well, there was a certain charm to him; the dark clothes, bright eyes, mysterious rituals.

In the harsh florescent light of school, Dmitry was just as he had always been. A black, cheerful, arrogant spot in the classroom who made too many smart remarks.

Now, Georgi not only had to contend with Calculus, but Dmitry’s attempts at conversation. Stupid, stupid conversation. All Georgi wanted to do was learn. Attempt to, anyways.

“Number seven?”

“No, I don’t know,” Georgi whispered back hotly. “I’m still on three.”

Georgi sighed, resting his chin in his palm and looking down at his text book. They were playing dodgeball in gym today. Somehow, Dmitry and Elizabeta always ended up on opposite teams. Pity the man who got in between their—

“Georgi—“

“Dmitry,  _what_ —“

A shadow fell over Georgi’s paper. He looked up slowly, heart sinking.

Mr. Braginski smiled down at him, head tilting to the side. “Any questions, Georgi? You have been staring out of the window for the past five minutes, so I assume you are all set for tomorrow’s quiz?”

“Oh, um… Yeah, I was just… Figuring it out. Uh.” Georgi smiled back awkwardly, hoping that Mr. Braginski didn’t realize he wasn’t even a quarter of the way done with the problems.  

“Study, study,” Mr. Braginski tapped his head with a finger.

“Ivan!”

Mr. Braginski turned, glaring. “Alfred, I am in the middle of class.”

“Calm down! I forget when we’re giving the quiz to the kids, come here!”

The teacher moved away to deal with the other math teacher; Georgi nearly collapsed with relief. Dmitry snickered, face half sympathetic. This was not sympathetic enough.

“Oh, what’re you laughin’ about?” Georgi asked, sinking down in his chair. “You got sent down to the office last week after skipping his class for a week. Shut up.”

Dmitry scoffed, resting his feet against Georgi’s chair. “That was different. It was a holiday.”

Georgi glared at Dmitry’s feet, scrunching up a piece of paper. “Yes, I’m sure you were celebrating the rise of Cthulhu or whatever.” He threw the paper ball, smirking when it bounced off of Dmitry’s nose. “Why did you even sit next to me?”

Dmitry shrugged, jiggling his foot so Georgi’s whole desk shook. “Well, you didn’t object to me holding you hand the other day, so excuse me if I sit next to you. ‘Sides, it’s funny seeing you daydream.”

“I don’t—“

“ _Some_  of us here would like to work,” Elizabeta snapped, twisting in her seat to glare at Dmitry. “And Dmitry, while eating his shit the other day, says hi.” She smiled, nodding to Georgi as she turned away.

Silence. Dmitry glared. Georgi fidgeted. 

“Um, is there another—“

“It’s her dog.”

Gym was pure madness. Dmitry, now that he was sitting next to him, also decided it was time to hurl the dodgeballs as fast as humanly possible at Georgi. It was the second headshot that Georgi broke. The two of them spent the remainder of the class pelting each other with the foam balls.

Georgi was panting when the class ended. Dmitry, for his part, looked amused as he strolled into the locker room. For whatever reason, it made Georgi even angrier. He ripped off his shirt, searching for his deodorant.

“Did you look up the meaning of the martie I gave you?”

Georgi turned quickly, sneakers squeaking loudly on the tiled floor. He didn’t even  _hear_ Dmitry. It’s like the boy appeared places. “The what?”

“The red and white bow.” Dmitry leaned against the lockers, already changed back into his dark clothes.

“Uh…” Why did he feel so awkward all of a sudden? He wanted to pull his shirt back on over his head. Instead, Georgi focused his attention on rifling through his locker. “No. Why? Should I?”


	3. Three

Georgi crossed his arms, trying to pay attention to the distant math lecture. Calculus was stupid, and hard, and Georgi probably should have dropped his math and focus on humanities. Then again, he sort of sucked at public discussions. High school sucked.

Georgi let his head fall onto his desk, sighing. The desk started to shake, and it took everything Georgi had in him not to freak out and attack the boy next to him.

“You haven’t called,” Dmitry whispered, shaking the desk with his foot a little more violently.

Ah, Georgi had been waiting for this. Big, bad Dmitry wanted to text Georgi. He had given him a goofy little bow-thing. He offered to give Georgi the answers to the tests and quizzes, trying to remain friendly and aloof.

Georgi ignored him. Dmitry tried to kill him in gym.

Georgi let his head fall to the side, and he raised an eyebrow at Dmitry. “Look, I’m sure all of these feelings are all very confusing, but I’m trying to focus.”

Dmitry shrugged, reaching up to adjust his hat. Pft, how pretentious. Who wore hats to school? It wasn’t a Snapback or baseball cap, but an honest-to-God fancy bowler hat. And Georgi had no idea how Dmitry got into school with that ridiculous black coat and boots, but it was stupid.

“Well, you could text. Just a little ‘hey, how ya’ doing’! Sorry about that whole kiss thing,’ or something.”

Georgi sucked in a breath, but ended up choking on his spit. He sat up, coughing, eyes watering as he glared at Dmitry. It probably sounded a little weird, and Georgi made sure no one had caught Dmitry’s stupid statement.

So, Georgi did what he did best: he ignored Dmitry, focusing on the front of the room. He could feel Dmitry’s gaze, feel the way the other boy’s foot casually nudged his own. It was terrible. Georgi couldn’t defend himself verbally at the best of times, let alone when he was was the one to instigate things in the first place.

Mr. Braginski handed back the tests from last week. Georgi let his head rest against the desk once again, gazing out the window at the grey skies. Stupid Calculus.

And stupid _gym_.

Georgi scowled, attempting—poorly—to keep the ball away from Dmitry. Desperately, Georgi tried to kick the ball to one of his teammates, but Dmitry was there, stealing the ball before Elizabeta even had the chance to approach it.

Georgi let out a frustrated noise from the back of his throat, jogging half-heartedly after the ball. Arthur pumped his shoulder as he ran by, muttering something under his breath. Oh, this was so stupid. Georgi stood back, watching Arthur and Dmitry tussle for the ball.

Finally, the teacher called time. Georgi was the first to rip off his penny, throwing it into the pile. He also ripped off his shirt, messing with his hair. God, he needed to take a shower. The study hall teacher probably wouldn’t notice if he was late, so he grabbed a towel.

Dmitry. Georgi should have just walked away at the party. He was so stupid sometimes. Wow, this shower was actually pretty hot. Georgi let his head fall under the stream of water, sighing. He should just stay here instead of going to study.

Someone cleared their throat.

Georgi whipped around, nearly slipping. Dmitry was standing to the entrance of the shower stall, hand over his eyes, grinning. Georgi fumbled for the water valve, cursing when he couldn’t find it. Panicking, he grabbed the towel, rapping it around his lower body.

The towel was soaked, but at least Dmitry wouldn’t see him naked. He found the switch and shut the water off.

“Ah—what the _fuck_ —you can’t just—seriously, what the hell?” Georgi fumed, wishing desperately that he hadn’t worn his shower sandals… Into the shower.

Dmitry peaked through his fingers, lowering his hand when he saw that Georgi was decent. “Well, you kissed me. And then you sort of ignored me, so I figured that we should probably talk about it. Unless you don’t want to. I can teach you how to pass a soccer ball.”

Georgi shook his head, annoyed by the water dripping into his eyes. Annoyed by the everything going on. Georgi hid his face in one hand, wishing he had brought a longer towel. Oh, he was supposed to respond.

“Um.”

Dmitry shifted. “I don’t have to sit next to you, anymore, if you wouldn’t like it. I’m just getting mixed signals. I, er… Are you okay?”

“I, just, well—I’m in a towel. A really short towel, if I—I can talk, I have study I just…” Georgi didn’t look up. “Can I please, just, get dressed?”

Georgi got dressed as fast as humanly possible. Then, he stayed facing his locker, hoping that Dmitry would assume Georgi was looking for something and back away. Nope. Dmitry was still standing a few feet away, leaning against the lockers, watching Georgi stare into his locker.

“I’m sorry I, uh, kissed you.”

Dmitry’s face contorted as he tried to keep the smile off of it. “You don’t have to be nervous. Look, my friends and I are having a party at this place. Would you want to come? We won’t have Jell-O shots.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, no idea when I'm going to update this.


	4. Four

And by “place,” Dmitry had meant a graveyard. It was an honest to God graveyard, on the edge of town by the creepy woods. It had a rusted gate. Georgi looked down at the text Dmitry had sent him, and then checked Google Maps once again.

No, he was definitely supposed to go into the graveyard. 

Georgi had debated all week whether to follow through with his commitment. His mother had been in full support, telling him that it was about time he went to a few parties, made a few mistakes. Raivis, a freshman in Georgi’s study, had given him a terrified look.

It had been Eduard who had ribbed Georgi the most. Eduard and Georgi shared Photoshop class together; it was mainly Eduard finishing early and talking to Georgi as the less artistic of the two struggled to insert UFOs into the Mona Lisa. 

“Dmitry?” Eduard asked, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard he’s done interesting extra-curricular activites. He’s into spray-painting and obscure mythology, if I’ve heard right.” 

Georgi slumped in his seat, the mouse slipping. “Please.”

“I’m sure he has equally exciting parties in his free time.” Eduard checked one of his eBay sales. 

“Look, I didn’t mean to accept the invitation. I felt bad, so I sort of nodded when I meant to shake my head, and now he’s been skipping and he sent me this address.” Georgi frowned at Mona Lisa, the UFO partially embedded in her eye. 

“You’re humming.”

The mouse slipped again. “I’m not.”

Eduard began on the next assignment for the class, eBay still open in the browser. “I could come with you. It would be interesting to see how your new friend parties. Goodness knows I would get along with Dmitry’s friends.”  Eduard smiled.

“Aw, come on.”

Eduard didn’t respond for a moment, but he shrugged. “Really, though. I’m having game night again Saturday, if you want to come to that instead. Tino’s coming over, pizza, studying.” 

And Georgi had almost given in. But Calculus class was somehow even more unbearable without Dmitry, and Georgi got a fifty-six on his last quiz. The last thing he wanted to do was talk about grades with Eduard of all people. 

So he had borrowed his mother’s minivan and brought an offering of alcohol. 

Georgi approached the gate to the graveyard slowly. “What do you even wear to a graveyard?” he muttered, looking down at the cheap vodka he had asked his mother to buy. 

The gate creaked open and Georgi flinched. It was highly illegal to be here, trespassing. All of these parties seemed to have a disturbing trend of illicit behavior. Georgi took the time to look up the criminal charges for trespassing. 

The grass crunched under his boots. As he headed further back, more trees began to obstruct the moonlight. The gravestones stood taller than Georgi was used to, and he was half expecting someone to be crouching behind one of them. At least it wasn’t foggy.

He should announce himself.

“Uh.”

Perfect. 

“There you—“

Georgi yelled, spinning and stubbing his toe against a gravestone. Dmitry grinned, leaning casually against one of the gravestones. He was dressed similarly as he had been at the other party, something with tight jeans and multiple layers and interesting bracelets.

Georgi resisted the urge to look down at his button up. 

“Er, alcohol.” Georgi offered the bottle. 

“I thought I told you no Jell-O shots?” Dmitry took the bottle and gestured. “We set up over here. We were playing Ouija, but Abel decided that it would be better to sacrifice someone, so we’ve been arguing about that for the last twenty minutes.” 

“Oh. So, like, one of us or…?”

Dmitry shrugged. “Lukas said because Abel suggested it, it should be him.” 

Dmitry didn’t seem to be leading them to any particular place, and for a moment Georgi feared this had all been an elaborate ruse to kill him. No, his mother knew where he was, so even if he didn’t—

“How’s Calc?”

Georgi scowled. “You took my notes Monday and never returned them.”

“Religious holiday, sorry. Gym?”

Georgi scoffed. “Actually, it’s been peaceful. Elizabeta has almost seemed in a good mood. She only swears once or twice, and when she throws the ball at me, I don’t black out anymore.”

“So, everyone missed me?”

A small grove of trees had warm light leaking around the trunks. Georgi slowed, suddenly feeling very awkward. He didn’t know any of the people, and he hardly knew Dmitry. A tune that had been stuck in his head all week suddenly reared its head.

Distantly, from the trees: “Well, if you _are_ going to sacrifice me, at least behead me!” 

Dmitry looked back. “Want to see something cool?”

“Is it—it another graveyard?” Georgi looked around.

Dmitry gestured, moving away from the party. “I like to hang around here sometimes. I’ve had a couple of fights here, so people know not to hang around. When I was thirteen, I tried to offer my hamster to the devil here and I found this.”

“Uh, what?”

Dmitry pointed.

It was a crypt. 

“No.” Georgi took special attention to make sure he _shook_ his head. “No.”

“Scared?” 

“You, are an ass.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys deserve a makeout scene.


End file.
